


THIS IS HALLOWEEN

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [9]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Mild Sexual Content, Multi, NOT edited at 5AM, No Plot, That's it, all fluff, because i can have self control when i feel like it, but not as it relates to the fic itself, does this look like the poster man for chauvinism, he has a rules book and worries if his friends are eating enough, i just usually don't, i think the fuck not, like he's just confident in himself and he doesn't care if it's not stereotypically masculine, more as it relates to a few future pieces, oh look i have cavities again, piotr is a domestic wet dream and no one can convince me otherwise, they go trick or treating, well a little bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: Piotr and the Reader go trick or treating with the X-Force.That's it. That's the fic.Yes, I'm pleased with myself.All warnings are in the tags (though there basically aren't any).[Set post "Dig the Needle In."]





	THIS IS HALLOWEEN

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to scream at me in my inbox or on my Tumblr: https://www.master-sass-blast.tumblr.com. Also, if you have headcanon ideas you want to throw at me or random rants about our favorite metal husband, drop them in my Tumblr inbox. (You should also check out colossus-and-cable's blog, because it's a hecking gift adsddkfd).

If there’s one thing you’ve learned during your stay at the X-Mansion, it’s that if a day seemed to be proceeding normally, Wade Wilson would undoubtedly pop in and make it delightfully weird. It’s like he has a sixth sense for it.  _Ah, everything’s calm and not chaotic. Guess I gotta fix that_.

Take right now, for instance. There’s a temporary air of calm in the X-Mansion. Students are done with their classes for the day, there aren’t any emergencies or missions to tend to, and all the chores are done for the day.

You’re currently on the couch in the rec room, snuggled up in the arms of your beefy boyfriend, Piotr Rasputin. He’s finally off for the day, and you managed to coax him into taking a bit of free time to do nothing with you.

It’s delightful. Heavenly, even. Absolutely nothing compares to being snuggled against your boyfriend’s massive, muscular chest. He’s not in defense mode right now, either, which means he’s warm and infinitely more comfortable.

Piotr sighs and tips his head back against the arm of the couch. “This is wonderful,  _myshka_.”

You hum your agreement as you nestle yourself against him. The peaceful silence of the mansion, the warmth seeping off your boyfriend, the way you feel safe and loved in his arms... it’s perfect.

Cue Wade Wilson.

“Emo Christmas came early!” Wade shatters the silence with a gleeful scream as the back door smacks open with a bang. “Who wants presents?”

Piotr lets out an annoyed growl. “Wade--”

He doesn’t have time to get anything else out, because Wade picks that moment to chuck a bag of Halloween candy straight at your boyfriend’s head. “Sugar Santa came early --and  _came early_ , if you know what I mean.”

“I’ve been babysitting for the past two hours,” Nathan growls as he shoves Wade out of the way so he can step in the house. “He’s all yours now.”

“Okay, hey, no! You said you were going to help!” Wade whines as he pelts you and Piotr with bag after bag of Halloween themed candy.

“I did. I didn’t throw you out on the highway while you were screaming along to ‘Hamster Dance.’”

“Okay, I have several questions, the first of which is: ‘Emo Christmas?’” You ask.

“Halloween! Okay, I swear to the International House of Beese-Churgers that if you don’t know what Halloween is--”

“I know what Halloween is, idiot,” You interject before Wade can gain any real momentum. “I just didn’t catch why you were calling it ‘Emo Christmas.’ And why do you need this much candy? You can’t eat it all by yourself.”

“It’s for the kids! For trick or treating! Duh.” At your blank look, Wade stills. “Oh my Francis. Do you know what trick or treating is?”

You look at Wade, then Piotr. “What’s trick or treating?”

“Holy shit. You don’t know what fucking trick or treating is!”

“What part of ‘locked in my room for the better part of a duration’ seems conducive to ‘allowed to normal childhood things?’” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Whoa! Pump the hate brakes, Zaheer! I wasn’t mocking, just commiserating,” Wade explains as he taps at his phone. “This is a serious tragedy, and I’m going to treat it as such. Now, trick or treating was a tradition started by the pagan elder gods in the year of--”

“Children dress up in costumes and go from door to door in neighborhood to ask for candy,” Piotr interjects before Wade can build up too much speed.

“Hey! You ruined my dramatic story-telling!”

“It would’ve been bullshit anyway,” Nathan grumbles, still looming in the kitchen despite his threats to dump Wade into your hands and disappear.

“So, wait, hang on a second. Kids dress up in costumes? What kind of costumes?”

“Anything. Depends on preference,” Piotr says.

You nod, then slump slightly. “But you said it’s for kids. That means I can’t do it, doesn’t it.”

To your surprise, Piotr shakes his head. “The X-Men take students to Halloween theme park each year to get them out of house, let them experience normal childhood activities. Most of teachers dress up. I went as Dracula last year.”

You gape, delighted. “You went trick or treating?”

“Well, not specifically. I went to act as chaperone. But many of older students trick or treat, so I say you could too, if you want.”

“Wait.” Ellie walks into the room, holding Yukio’s hand. “That’s your ‘life or death emergency’ you texted us about? Fucking Halloween and trick or treating?”

“Excuse me for trying to be a good friend, Wednesday Addams! Hi, Yukio!”

“Hi, Wade!”

“Finally, some decent treatment! About time; this is my fucking franchise, after all! Okay, show of hands,” Wade says as Neena and Russell walk into the room. “How many of you have been trick or treating before?” When only Ellie and Piotr raise their hands, Wade gasps and presses his hands against his face. “Oh. My. Francis. How is this possible? This is a travesty! Even for ‘murder-pedophilia-orphanages’ and ‘A Series of Unfortunate Events’ levels of abusive guardianship! That tears it! We’re going trick or treating!”

“I’m diabetic, asshole,” Russell says. “I can’t eat the candy!”

“Oh, whatever the fuck! Give it to the younger mutants! Eat it anyway and spend the night in the infirmary! Stick it in Cyclops’s shoes and film his reaction when he realizes all his footwear is ruined! This about the group experience, the camaraderie! Work with me, Zuko!”

“Only do the first one,” Piotr adds while Wade catches his breath from his rant. “Do not do the other two. And we can get sugar-free candy for you, Russell.”

That smooths the pyrokinetic teen’s ruffled feathers. He nods with a grin. “Cool. I’m in.”

“Count me in, too,” Neena says. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“It sounds like fun.” Yukio flashes a sweet grin at her girlfriend. “Can we join too?”

“Sure. I was already going for the haunted house.”

“Excellent! Y/N and Metallica are already going, and Cable doesn’t get a say because I’m forcibly abducting him!”

Nathan pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something that vaguely sounds like a death threat.

You grin.  _This is gonna be fun!_

 

* * *

 

Fun --and overwhelming.

Piotr had excused himself shortly after Wade’s none too tasteful victory dance, citing ungraded essays as an excuse. Most of the X-Force followed, offering various explanations --or, in Ellie’s case, saying she needed to bleach her brain after watching Wilson’s ‘ungodly, idiotic flailing.’

Before you could think to follow your boyfriend to safety, Wade had grabbed your and Nathan’s arms and sat the two of you down at the kitchen table for an official crash course on all things Halloween.

Movies. Costumes. Decorations. Themed treats. Official candy rankings. Pranks. Wade was an enthusiastic fire hydrant of knowledge, and he was using his healing factor as much as possible to limit his need for oxygen so he could spew out information to keep Cable from interrupting him.

Two hours in, and you’re well past your limit. While Wade’s back is turned, you fire off a quick text to your boyfriend.

_It’s been two hours. Wade’s still talking. Save me_.

**I’m in my art studio. Come see me?**

“Hey!” Wade smacked his hand on the table, making you jump. “Pay attention! I don’t want to go through my discourse on jack-o-lanterns twice!”

Next to you, Nathan rolls his eyes. “Get on with it, dildo rack.”

You wait until Wade’s back is turned again --he’s rummaging through the fridge, which is just extra points in your favor--then nudge Nathan’s leg with your foot. “If you help me escape, I’ll owe you.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “What’s it worth to ya?”

You wait until Wade’s sufficiently distracted again, then make the best offer you can think of. “Next April Fool’s. I’ll help you prank the shit out of Wade. All my best ideas and deep, dark knowledge from being his best friend. At your disposal. Plus twenty bucks.”

He smirks, then nods. “Deal. I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“Then you better make my escape good, dude.”

Nathan leans back in his seat for a moment, eyeing Wade as the merc flails around the kitchen, gesticulating as he starts ranting about how Mounds aren’t actual candy --again. Then, he shoves his seat back, grabs Wade by the collar of his shirt, and drags him off to the rec room.

You blink --then bolt out of the kitchen.

An exit is an exit, after all.

 

* * *

 

Piotr’s seated at his special angled table in his art studio, carefully lining a new drawing with a fine tipped pen. Even when he’s in his human form, he’s still so unbelievably delicate with everything he does. The light attached to his drawing table is on to help compensate for the quickly falling night, and his reading glasses are perched halfway down his nose --because, yes, he draws with glasses so his eyes are protected.

You enter carefully, making sure to announce your presence with noise so you don’t startle him and make him smudge his lines (he doesn’t get mad at you when it happens, but you can see the resigned frustration in does happen, and you always feel so awful for it). “I think I might’ve sold my soul to the devil on accident.”

“And how did you do that?”

“I agreed to help Cable prank Wade for April Fool’s if he helped me escape the kitchen.”

“I’m not sure which is worse: you made deal with Cable, or you made deal with Cable against Wade. For April Fool’s.”

“Hey, you never know. It could turn out amazing.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he takes his glasses off. “What’cha doin’?”

“Oh, I was --uh--working on some... designs.”

You peer around his burly shoulders to get a good look at the paper on his desk.

There’s two figures sketched out on the page --a male one and a female one. The male figure is tall, with broad shoulders and thick legs. The female figure is considerably shorter than her male counterpart, with an oddly familiar silhouette...

“Is that me? Wait, that’s you, too. Did you draw us?”

The tips of Piotr’s ears turn red. “ _Da_. I... I thought we could dress up in couple’s costumes. I decided to work on some designs.”

You realize, for the first time since you entered his art studio, that there’s a small stack of papers on the arm of his arm chair. Beyond curious, you flash him a begging, purposefully adorable smile. “Can I look? Please?”

He consents with a nod, and goes back to working on the sketches in front of him.

You flip through the pages he’s already finished. Each design is meticulously crafted, detailed with delicate lines and sumptuous colors. There’s a wide array of choices, ranging from airy fantasy designs to terrifying horror choices.

It takes your breath away --first, because Piotr’s an incredible artist with a vast set of skills, and second because his efforts to making your first real Halloween so memorable and wonderful are making your heart melt.

The designs he’s already finished are all perfect and excellent choices in their own right, but you keep coming back to the page he’s working on. Something about it --maybe the color choices, maybe the way he’s interpreted the source material--keeps drawing you back in.

Eventually, you give in to your instincts and carefully tap the page he’s working on. “This one. I like this one.”

 

* * *

 

You’re in the library, curled up on one of the plush couches while you work on grading a set of essays for Logan’s history course. You’re partially tucked under a blanket --a perfect cozy counterpart to the steady drizzle of fall rain outside.

You let out a sigh of relief as you finish the last essay --Logan’s classes were either filled with half-assers or over-killers, no middle ground to speak of--and relax against the couch. You let your eyes close, just for a moment, as the aches of sitting in the same position for so long slowly work their way out of your body. You stretch your legs out and readjust your position so that you’re laying on the couch, instead of half-sitting, half reclining.

Just for a moment. Or so you tell yourself.

Unsurprisingly, a moment turns into several moments, which turns into you slowly dozing off on the couch. You’re almost out, just barely floating on the edge of consciousness, when your blanket tugging up around you brings you back to the surface.

You inhale sharply as you wake back up and let out a little squeaking noise.

“Sorry.” Piotr smiles apologetically as he brushes a few wayward strands of hair away from your face. “I wasn’t trying to wake you.”

“Oh. Hi, Pete.” You smile sleepily and stretch. “What’s up?”

“It can wait. I don’t want to disturb your rest.”

“No, it’s fine. ‘m awake.” You lurch into a sitting position and crane your head up so you can see his face --because even when he’s in his human form, he’s an utter giant. “How can I help you?”

“I need to take your measurements for costumes. I figured we’d go to my studio to avoid interruptions.”

You grin and lift your arms up. “By all means. Take me away, big guy.”

 

* * *

 

The measurements go smoother than you expected. Piotr’s surprisingly adept with the measuring tape, and he whisks through the sets of measurements like a pro.

You do manage to make him blush when he measures your chest, though, so it’s a victory, all in all.

When he starts talking fabric lengths and types, you realize that he wasn’t thinking about buying costume pieces from a party store. “Hang on --you can sew?”

“Not many clothes come in my size. For special occasions, it’s easier to make for myself than try to shop in store or online. It’s also handy for when I tear my clothes --more cost efficient to repair than replace.”

Well, that makes sense. Besides, it’s not like Piotr’s ever been the beacon of stereotypical, ‘kill-something-and-eat-it’ masculinity.

You suppose it’s the size. Trying to imagine someone as big as your boyfriend handling something as delicate as sewing is almost impossible.

He gives you a confused look when you start giggling. “What? What’s so funny?”

“It’s just --your hands! They’re so big!” You hold your hands up to his, as if to prove your point. “How do you not sew over your own fingers?”

He favors you with a soft, amused grin. “I am very careful.”

“I suppose that would do it.” You laugh again. “I mean, if that’s what would take, I’d have multiple holes through my fingers before I even turned the machine on.”

“Which is why I am sewing and you are not.”

You giggle again as you wrap your arms around his waist. “So. What’s next?”

“Next, we go to fabric store.”

 

* * *

 

The trip to the fabric store is surprisingly less disastrous than you thought it’d be --though that probably has more to do with your boyfriend’s focus and organization and less to do with your penchant for being an unhelpful, if adorable, nuisance. You amuse yourself with pointing to various bolts of fabric --none of which actually fit the look you’re going for--and taking weird selfies while Piotr finds what the two of you actually need. Eventually --specifically, after your third attempt to drape a length of neon green spandex over his head--he’d gently plopped you in the cart, set the materials he’d already found in your lap, and designated you the ‘official holder.’

You’d pouted, but it also got you out of standing around while he mulled over different shades of black and gray, so you weren’t complaining too much.

After you’d spent a good three minutes heckling him for being so obsessive with the colors, he’d relented with a laugh, settled on a choice, and wheeled the cart --and you--to the cutting table before heading to the check out.

The two of you had headed home --after he’d denied you a trip to McDonald’s for a milkshake, citing you ‘already being wound up enough,’ whatever that meant--with your costume supplies in tow. You’d manned the radio the whole way back to Xavier’s, singing and dancing in your seat.

Somewhere, in the chaos of trying to get everything inside while the sky unleashed buckets of rain at you and placating a very offended Wade, who was upset that he wasn’t invited along for the store run, you were hit by a sudden rush of emotion.

Maybe it was Piotr’s amazingly unfailing patience as he dealt with Wade, maybe it was the way his damp hair spiked and held together when he ran his fingers through it, or maybe it was his continuing dedication in supporting your effort to reclaim your lost childhood, but you suddenly realized that you loved him.

Not like the “I love you” love --you’d already come to terms with that, you told him “I love you” on a regular basis. No, like “long term” love. “Marriage” love. “Raising kids and growing old” love.

You’d mentioned the idea of marrying him after rescuing him from Harmony --the tale of ‘Cassidy Rasputin’ lives on, much to your chagrin--but you hadn’t really processed it. You hadn’t  _lied_  --because who wouldn’t want to marry the literal domestic and explicit wet dream that can also turn into metal--but it’d just... sort of been a ‘in the moment, holy shit you almost died’ sort of thing. Neither of you had mentioned it afterwards.

But now? Now you  _want_  it. This isn’t a ‘you almost died and I’m overly emotional but not misleading you’ sort of feeling. This is a ‘fuck, I want this to be the rest of my life’ feeling.

You swallow hard as you watch your boyfriend disentangle himself from another ‘hug’ attempt by Wade.  _Fuck. How am I going to deal with this_?

 

* * *

 

“Neena!” You skip down the stairs, careful to not trip over the hem of your dress. “Neen-er Wiener!”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Hey, this is an emergency situation! I had to break out the big guns!”

You’re done up in your costume --Persephone, Greek goddess of Spring and the Underworld. Your light green, floaty dress --which is surprisingly warmer than it looks, because Piotr one hundred percent looked up the weather forecast for Halloween to make sure you were insulated properly--is decorated with various fake flowers and an ombre effect from the green of the fabric to black along the bottom of the skirt. Your hair is piled on the top of your head in the most elaborate style you can manage, and a crown made out of flowers and costume jewels sits on top of your head.

Neena --dressed as Michonne from ‘The Walking Dead’--grins at you. “Damn. You look good. What’s the emergency?”

You hold out an eyeliner pen to her. “I need you to wing my liner. My makeup took forever, and I don’t want to mess up. I need Lady Luck on my side.”

She laughs and nods at the kitchen. “Come on.”

Piotr’s already in the kitchen, dressed as an impressive Hades in a floor length black toga and cloak, head tipped back as Ellie traces a ring of eyeliner around his eyes.

“Looks like I’m not the only who needs help with their eyeliner. Looking good, babe.”

Ellie steps back so he can sit up. “ _Damn_. Your costume looks good.” She nudges her mentor’s shoulder. “You really went all out, huh?”

Piotr grins bashfully and shrugs. “I don’t get to do this very often. It was fun.”

You smile at him. “Hey, I’m not complaining. I can’t remember the last time I looked this fabulous.”

“You always look fabulous.” Neena taps your shoulder. “Sit down. Let’s do this.”

“What are you supposed to be, Neg?” You ask while Neena starts applying your eyeliner.

“Yukio and I are going as different representations of goth culture. She’s going as Lolita goth, I’m going as American goth.”

“So, you basically get to go in your clothes,” You say as you try to hold as still as possible. “That was smart.”

“Well, not all of us are on the X-Men payroll and can afford to make really elaborate costumes.”

“I would’ve made you something if you had asked,” Piotr mumbles sheepishly.

Ellie shakes her head. “Nah. We’re having fun. We’re getting to learn more about each other’s culture this way.”

“That’s cool.” Neena steps back and caps the pen. “Two even wings. Lady Luck is on our side.”

You examine your perfectly pointy eyeliner wings in the mirror, and--

And it’s a good thing Neena got them done so fast, because holy fucking shitballs.

“Looks like I’m fashionably late. Perfect.”

You gape. Your brain stops. You can’t breathe.

Across the table, Ellie just looks traumatized. “What the actual shit, Douche-Pool?!”

Wade --resplendent in a red and black, long sleeved leotard patterned like his suit, black fishnet stockings, a pair of black, spike heel thigh highs, and his mask--leans against the door frame in what would’ve been a seductive pose if he hadn’t been the one doing it. “Like it? I’m ‘Sexy Deadpool.’”

“Oh god, I need brain bleach,” Ellie manages. “Lots of it. Right now.”

“I think you look nice, Wade,” Yukio chimes in. “I like your shoes.”

“ _Thank you_. Finally, I get some decent treatment around here! I mean--”

Whatever Wade says next --you suspect it’s another ‘franchise’ comment--sails over your head when the final two members of your team walk into the kitchen.

Russell, who looks beyond cool dressed as a the Joker, and--

“Holy shit!” You start laughing, stunned out of your ‘I saw way more of Wade than ever wanted to’ induced shock.

Nathan, looking world-weary and mildly pissed off, is dressed as Terminator.

“That’s awesome,” you say as you clap your hands. “How did Wade get you in that?”

“I can be persuasive! You’d be surprised what people will agree to while under the influence of cocaine.”

“Shut up, dipshit. You didn’t drug me. I chose this on my own.”

“No.” You feel like you’re about to have an aneurysm, it’s so amazing. “No way.”

“There’s not many options for a cyborg, believe it or not,” Wade says with a sigh. “Discrimination. It knows no limits.”

“Christ, I chose it because it was practical, you fucking butt plug.”

“Mm, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Wade.” Piotr presses the heel of his hand against his forehead, careful not to smudge Ellie’s efforts with his eye makeup. “First, just stop. Please. Second, your costume is not... appropriate. There are children going with us.”

“Relax, discount Silver Surfer. I have a coat. It goes halfway down my thighs. No unnecessary scarring tonight, okay?”

“You’re not going to get anything better out of him,” You murmur in Piotr’s ear. You pat his shoulder when he relents with a sigh.

“Fine. Coat stays on while children are present. No arguing.”

“Damn. Are you that good with commands in the bedroom? Hey, Y/N, is he secretly a dom?”

“You should know I’m not answering that question,” You fire back.

“We should go,” Piotr says as he stands. “It is lengthy drive to destination.”

You’re halfway to the door when you realize you left your candy bag upstairs. “Ah, shit snacks. I mean crud. I’ll be right back. I forgot something.” You dart upstairs and into your room. “Alright, where did I leave that fucker?”

You find the bag tucked under your pillow --you’re not sure how it got there, but you don’t have time to question it. You shake it out, smile, then freeze.

This is your first big event out since your stay at your uncle’s. You’re getting better, but you don’t have any serum to tuck in your bag in case an emergency strikes --and you’ll also be a couple hours away from the safe rooms designed to handle lapses in control like yours.

Nervousness coils in the pit of your stomach. You haven’t had an episode for a couple weeks, but you don’t want to push your luck.

A gentle knock on the door frame pulls you out of your spiraling panic. You glance over your shoulder and see Piotr watching you. You hold up your bag with a weak smile. “Found it.”

He smiles softly, but his eyes are knowing. “What’s wrong,  _myshka_?”

You gulp. “I’m scared. I don’t want to have an episode while we’re out.”

He lets out a gentle sigh and holds his arms out to you. “Come here,  _lyublyu_.”

You eagerly step into his arms. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know. And I don’t think you will. You’ve been doing so much better.”

You frown down at your shoes. “I just wish I had some of the serum with me. Just in case.”

“No,  _myshka_. It’s not good for you.”

“I know, I know! I’m just scared!”

He hugs you against his chest and kisses the top of your head. “It’s going to be okay. And, if you start feeling bad, I’ll drive you back.  _Khorosho_?”

The terrified part of you knows that once you start going, there’s no transport fast enough to get you to a safe place.

The rational part of you, the part of you that’s been dutifully working with your therapist to reach a healthier mindset, knows that you’re going to be alright. Your stress has been significantly lower over the past few weeks. You’ve been meditating and journaling diligently. You’re going out to do something fun, with your friends and your boyfriend. All the factors are in your favor.

You take a deep breath, then nod. “Yeah. Come on.” You yank Piotr down the hall and towards the stairs, as though he were the one causing the delay. “I’ve got candy to score.”

 

* * *

 

The Halloween park is amazing. Hands down, one of the top five coolest places you’ve ever been.

There’s a trick or treating run that the kids and teens --and you; you pair up with some of the shyer kids--do, loading your bags up with as much candy as you can bear to carry. Piotr comes with, acting as a translator for Sasha and Katya and generally looking amused by and smitten with you.

There are also “haunted hayrides” that run through the woods that sit behind the park. It’s pretty cheesy --plastic skeletons and pop up mummies--but you still beam from ear to ear while the students gasp and shriek.

On Piotr’s advice, you steer clear of the haunted house. It looks interesting --and definitely less campy than the hayrides--but according to him it’s an intense run.

“Not that I don’t trust your control,  _dorogaya moya_ , but I’m not sure you’re ready for this.”

When Russell emerges twenty minutes later looking somewhat traumatized, you’re happy with your choice to stay with your boyfriend and help him manage the gaggle of sugared-up kids.

There’s more mutant groups than just Xavier’s, and you wind up running into a bunch of people who want to take yours and his picture. The two of you make for quite a striking pair, with you in you sweet, almost angelic Spring costume as Persephone and him in layers of flowing black --completed by a pair of red contacts that he put in once he was done driving.

Wade and Nathan are also stopped for countless pictures, mostly by teens who think Nathan’s costume is hilarious and that Wade, for reasons the merc can’t completely fathom, looks fabulous.

“I mean, I get the costume looks good, but they’re saying I look good. Are they blind? Are they fucking with me?”

“What do I keep telling you, gorgeous?” Somehow, Nathan manages to make the line sound borderline insulting. The small smile he follows it with, however, is anything but.

The festivities conclude with an announcement that Neena won the raffle for the two hundred dollar value candy bag, complete with gourmet chocolate.

Wade whines, furious at losing, before he does a double take when Russell walks past. “Hang on,” he says. “That character’s not in the Marvel franchise! This is a fanfic, isn’t it?”

In short, it’s a perfect night.

As you head back to the car, walking hand in hand with Piotr, you can’t help but feel that you’re going to have a lot more of these.

 

* * *

 

You’re sitting on Piotr’s bed, sorting your massive load of candy to see what you managed to pick up. You’re in your pajamas and your hair is damp from your shower, make-up and hairspray long since washed away.

It’s been an amazing night. A magical night.

You tear open a fun size bag of M&Ms --right when Piotr walks out of the bathroom.

“It’s midnight,  _moya lyubov’_. You don’t need sugar.”

You look him right in the eye as you pour the whole bag into your mouth. “Fight me.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh and eyes the spread of candy currently dominating his bed. “Are we sleeping on the floor tonight?”

“Hey, Wade said that sorting out your candy was a vital component to Halloween. I’m about halfway through; I’ll put it all back when I’m done, but I need to take stock of my spoils, Piotr. These are hard earned prizes!”

He chuckles and favors you with a soft look that you know means he’s feeling a little sappy for some reason. “Do you mind if I draw you while you ‘take inventory?’”

Ah. There it is.

Your face flushes, but you nod anyway. “Sure --as long as you don’t want me to hold still.” You resume sorting out your candy while he sits down in his desk chair, but you’re highly aware of him watching you now, of the way his gaze studies you while you place fun-sized candies into neat piles.

You’re not sure what, exactly, makes this a ‘draw-able’ moment to him. It’s mundane, almost silly. You’re just sorting out candy like a kid, without any real rhyme or reason --even though Wade gave you a formal list ranking all the popular Halloween candies, you’re pretty sure most of it’s bullshit anyway.

You suppose, though, that sentiment means different things to different people. Kind of how some people --Wade--thought that the Transformers saga was the pinnacle of cinematic beauty while other people --literally anyone else--thought it was hot, shitty, explosion-laden garbage.

Besides, it could jut be a case of the potential nostalgia of the moment being lost on you. You lack the perspective required to tell whether this is going to be a highly sentimental moment for you years down the road. Piotr, on the other hand, has probably seen the kids at the mansion do this enough times to know that it’s objectively adorable and worth committing to physical memory in some fashion.

Or maybe it’s just because it’s your first time doing any of this ever. Which, yeah, first times of anything do warrant some special treatment --and, god, you’re glad Wade’s not here right now. You’re glad that he manages to miss your unintentional innuendo moments ninety percent of the time, because holy shit he can be insufferable if he thinks --knows--he’s witnessed some comedy gold.

And, back to the main point, you suppose that different people just flat out label different memories as ‘golden hued.’ This moment might not be it for you, but there were plenty of instances over the course of the night. Namely, getting to wear a costume for the first time, going on the hayrides and enjoying the campy horror, watching Piotr work with the kids --and those moments had been particularly entrancing. You’d had to snap yourself out of a giddy daze several times and remind yourself that those weren’t your kids he was interacting with, and that the two of you weren’t actually married the way you’d envisioned in your head, and that you didn’t have a family of hyperactive munchkins, and--

“--and I’ve just been talking out loud the entire time, haven’t I?”

You have. If the dryness of your mouth and throat weren’t telling enough, Piotr’s bright red cheeks and shocked expression definitely are.

He’s sitting in his chair, pencil poised a few inches above his drawing pad. His blue eyes are impossibly wide, and he looks like he’s seen the face of God.

Oops. This wasn’t how you’d planned to tell your boyfriend that you wanted to marry him and make a family with him. No, that was definitely a Valentine’s Day or anniversary sort of thing --you know, go all out, expensive date and hotel, confess post a couple rounds of love making. Definitely not a mindless ramble while sorting out candy like a fourth grader after trick or treating--

“--and I’m talking out loud again. Dammit.”

“Language,  _dorogaya moya_ ,” Piotr murmurs, broken out of his shock by your profanity. He sets his pencil and drawing pad on his desk, then crosses his bedroom and sits down next you, careful to not disturb your hard work. He takes your hands in his and gives you a shy, impossibly hopeful look. “You... want to get married? To have family? With me?”

“Well, like, eventually. Yeah. I mean, I think I’ve got some shit to work out first --and I say ‘shit’ because it is exactly that--but once I’m... better... yeah.” Your face feels like it’s on fire, but you don’t look away from him. “I love you, Piotr. I thought that was obvious.”

“I love you too, Y/N. I just...” He pauses to smile, and he looks so thrilled and awestruck that it makes your heart melt. “I know you mentioned it after Harmony, but then you didn’t say anything else. I thought it was... ‘we almost died’ sort of thing.”

“Well, it sort of was, but it wasn’t. I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t mean it, Pete. And, I mean, after Harmony I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t really think about...”

He kisses the top of your head when your voice trails off. “It’s okay,  _myshka_. I understand.”

You swallow hard, but soldier on, determined to finish the point you were trying to make. “And I mean it now. But not in a ‘we almost died’ sort of way. I mean it in a... in a ‘I love you so much it hurts and I really, really,  _really_  want this’ way. In a ‘yes, I want this to be my future, just give me time to get better’ way. What I’m trying to say is--” You stop to wet your lips, even though your mouth’s gone dry “--I love you, Piotr Rasputin, and I know I want to marry you someday. I  _know_  I want to do that, and I  _know_  I want to have a family with you. The fact that I’m not there yet doesn’t change that I know and want it.”

Piotr’s eyes are shining with happy tears, and he gives you the biggest, most wonderful smile you’ve ever seen. “I love you too,  _myshka_. And I want that too. Everything you’ve said.  _Bozhe moi_ , I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be better enough to do all that--”

He kisses each of your cheeks softly. “I know it will take time. You’re in driver’s seat, okay? You decide when you’re ready. Whenever that happens. I’m happy to wait.”

Okay, and now your eyes are stinging with happy, mushy tears because,  _fuck_ , he’s so wonderful and kind and--

“--And I’m talking out loud again. Motherfu-- just come here.” You loop your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.

“You should finish sorting candy,” he says when the two of you part. “Otherwise, we will never sleep.”

“Nope.” You begin shoveling your candy back into your bag. “This can wait until tomorrow. I’ve got more important things to do right now.” You drop your refilled bag onto the floor by his bed and clamber into his lap. “C’mere, you.”

The kiss, which starts sweet and gentle, quickly turns into unabashed making out. You moan into his mouth as he swirls his tongue around yours, and he groans as your hands tug at his hair. You let out a sharp gasp when his hands slide down your back and squeeze your ass, and push him onto his back --which only works because he’s happy to humor you; if he actually felt like resisting, you’d never be able to move him.

You let out a soft, happy sigh as his hands skim up your back and under your shirt, smoothing over your soft skin.

You don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know how long it’ll take to get your episodes under control.

But you do know that you love Piotr with all your heart, and that he loves you with all of his.

For now, that’s more than enough.


End file.
